


But He's a Heathen

by Attack_on_Tieman



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 06:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19661428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attack_on_Tieman/pseuds/Attack_on_Tieman
Summary: Etoile follows Arslan as he leads his host back to Etbatana, though she isn't too pleased by the prospect. When Arslan asks her to accompany him on a hunt, she agrees, if only to keep an eye on the heathen prince. Everything goes wrong when bandits attack, and Etoile and Arslan find themselves taken hostage.





	But He's a Heathen

They sat around the campfire, eating a small meal—which was all the army could afford being on the road this long. Etoile bit into her bread as the other Lusitanians chatted. She wasn’t even listening, lost in her own train of thought.

She wondered why the Parsians allowed them to join, why they weren’t forced to wear chains, or be slaves. Then again, Etoile knew why.

He was a few campfires away, talking happily with some of his loyal subjects. The light from the fire glinted off his long silvery hair. His face broke into an infectious smile, then he started laughing. Though out of earshot, Etoile imagined his laugh.

_These Parsians are heathens, she told herself_ , returning her gaze to the fire. _They worship a false god. We are the true followers of Yaldabaoth. Their prince is the worst of all. But then... why does he make me feel this way?_

She felt a flush creep up her neck, but tried to convince herself it was from the heat of the fire. Etoile stole a quick glance back over her should to where he sat, and to her horror, she saw that he was walking toward her.

Etoile fidgeted as Arslan took a seat next to her. The other Lusitanians were giving the crown prince looks of surprise, and Etoile tried to mirror their expression. But all she could manage was a look of terror.

Arslan let out a soft chuckle an Etoile felt her heart fluttter.

“No need to be afraid,” said Arslan. He flashed the group one of his innocent smiles and the Lusitanians relaxed slightly. Etoile felt another pang of emotion.

“Lady Etoile,” said Arslan. “I was wondering if you might accompany me on an evening hunt.”

“Uh, well,” she stammered. “I-I guess.” Etoile crosses her arms in a huff. “If that’s what you want of me.”

Arslan placed a hand on the side of his head as he let out a chuckle. “No need to get so defensive,” he replied. “I’ve been taking a few Lusitanians out every night to get to know them and your culture a little bit better.”

_Why is he trying so hard?!_ She wanted to yell at him for being such a good prince.

******

They set out a couple of hours later. Arslan had changed out of his standard white clothes, settling for a dark blue tunic and gray leggings. He didn’t look quite so princely, which Etoile thought was probably a good thing. The host had been traveling for weeks through the forest and hadn’t seen another soul. She had heard the stories though, and no doubt Narsus and Alfrïd had warned the crown prince of the bandits in the area. So it was surprising when Arslan arrived with only Elam at his side.

Arslan in the lead, the band of five took off into the night. Each carried with a spear or bow, swords sheathed at their hips.

Etoile stayed toward the back of the pack. She wasn’t really a hunter, having spent most of her days in the keep. Instead, she keep her eyes on Arslan.

_To make sure he doesn’t try anything_ , she tried to convince herself.

He was happily chatting with two of her comrades. She could tell that this unnerved Elam a little bit, but he was trying to keep his emotions in check. If it’s what his prince wanted, Elam would oblige.

_Arslan’s closest advisors would do anything for him,_ she thought. _They are all willing to lay down their lives for their future king._ Etoile knew that she didn’t feel that sort of loyalty toward the Lusitanian king. She felt envious of the Parsians for a split second, but then quickly shook it off. Once again, she wanted to yell at him for being such a good prince.

Arslan slowed his pace until he was by her side. “It’s quite nice out,” he said. “Thank you for coming along.”

“I am your prisoner,” she replied. “And must do as you command.”

Arslan let our that soft chuckle that she hated—because she loved it—before replying, “I’ve told you before. You _aren’t_ my prisoner.” He suddenly got very serious, a determined glint in his eyes. “Unless someone is making you feel like a prisoner. Who is it? I’ll put them in their place. You’re to be treated kindly.”

“No, no,” said Etoile. “No one is doing anything of the sort. It’s been... nice.” Arslan relaxed and smiled at her, and she quickly added, “But as soon as our arrangement is complete, I am leaving.”

“Of course,” he replied.

_Was there a hint of sadness in his voice?_ Her eyes narrowed slightly. _No. Couldn’t be._

From the right came a rustling sound. Elam quickly positioned himself between Arslan and the brush, bow raised, arrow nocked Etoile was impressed by his speed.

Out of the bushes scampered a medium-sized badger. It stopped at the edge of the path, examining the group. Elam half-lowered the bow. Etoile let out a breath, not realizing she had been holding it.

Out of nowhere flew an arrow, embedding itself into the badger’s side. Elam spun in the direction the arrow had come, but it was too late.

The bandits were already on them.

Etoile felt a pair of rough hands forcing her to her knees. Next to her, Arslan sink to the ground. Surprisingly, there was no fear in his eyes.

We’re vastly outnumbered, she thought as the others laid down their weapons and took a knee. Why is he so calm?

Out of the brush came a purple blur and two of the bandits fell, stomachs sliced open by the attacker. The confusion gave Elam time to draw a hidden dagger, thrusting it into the stomach of the bandit closest to him.

“Run!” yelled Gieve, holding out his hand for Arslan. “We’re right behind you.”

Etoile drew her sword, engaging one of the bandits. He was twice her size, but Etoile was quick. She ducked beneath his blade, then ran him through.

“Etoile!” Arslan shouted. He and Elam were running back the way they’d come. Gieve and the Lusitanians were making short work of the remaining bandits.

Which didn’t sit right with Etoile. Something was wrong.

She took off after Arslan and Elam. They ran along the path, the clashing of blades fading away until all that remained was the sound of the forest and their own labored breathing.

And then they ran right into the bandits trap.

Etoile, Arslan, and Elam soon found themselves airborne, caught in a net. Laughter met their ears as bandits stepped out from the trees.

“Well, well, well,” said their leader, shaved head covered in blue tattoos. “What do we have here?”

The three found themselves bound and gagged as they were led through the forest back to the bandit camp. Etoile didn’t know what they planned to do with them once they arrived, but she feared the worst. Arslan and Elam would probably just be made into spaces, but her? A shiver ran down her spine.

The bandits tossed them into a tent, at least having the decency to remove their gags before leaving them alone.

“Gieve will find us,” said Arslan. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“This is all my fault.” Elam frowned. “I should’ve sensed we weren’t alone. Narsus will never be able to forgive me.”

“It’s okay,” continued Arslan. “It’s kind of my own fault for insisting on going out.”

_He is still very much a boy,_ Etoile thought. _It might end up getting him killed._

The tent flap was thrown open and the leader appeared. He grabbed Etoile by the arm, yanking her to her feet. Panic washed over here.

“No!” yelled Arslan as Etoile was dragged toward the exit. “Leave her alone!”

The leader smirked. Arslan scrambled to his feet, then ran toward them, head lowered. He slammed into the leader and the two of them tumbled out of the tent.

The leader regained his feet before Arslan, aiming a kick at the crown prince. His boot caught Arslan in the stomach. Arslan wheezed as he was kicked again. 

Etoile growled. She rushed the leader, not quite sure what she was going to do. All she knew is she had to help Arslan.

The leader caught her before she made contact. He spun on his heels, using her momentum, then threw her to the side. Etoile hit the ground hard.

There was a yell and Elam joined the scuffle. He was too consumed in anger to think the situation through. The leader sidestepped Elam’s charge, then stuck out his foot to trip him up. Elam hit the dirt. The leader kicked him across he face, knocking him out.

Etoile was dragged to her feet by two bandits. She struggled against the grasp, knowing it was no use.

Then came a cough and Arslan was speaking. She couldn’t quite here what he was saying. The leader bent down, listening. He then let out a loud, boisterous laugh.

“Fine, if that’s what you want,” he said. “Throw them back in the tent.”

To her relief, she was returned to their prison. Arslan was led back inside by the leader, while the unconscious Elam was thrown in by another bandit. Then, they were left alone. 

“Are you okay?” Arslan asked her as soon as they were alone. The concern in his voice moved her.

“Me? What about you?” she demanded. “And what did you say to him?”

“Oh, uh, that,” said Arslan, suddenly going red. “I, uh, I challenged the leader to a one-on-one duel.”

“Why would you do something so stupid?!” Etoile yelled. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Arslan let out a chuckle. “I mean, I wasn’t just going to let them take you.”

_Oh, no_ , thought Etoile, the realization dawning on her. _He did this for me._

“You idiot!” she yelled. If her hands had been free, she would’ve slapped him. “I don’t need your protection! I can handle myself.”

“Oh, I never said you couldn’t,” said Arslan. “I just... I didn’t know what else to do... and I was scared.”

The seriousness of his tone caught her off guard.

“In the moment,” he continued, “I just couldn’t bear to see you taken away.”

_For me, he did this for me,_ she thought. _The nerve! Who does he think he is? He’s stupid, so very stupid. He—_

“You’d really die for a Lusitanian?” she asked.

“Well, you aren’t just _some_ Lusitanian,” he replied _. “_ You’re...”

_Please don’t say it._

Elam let our a groan and Etoile didn’t know whether to punch him or hug him. The relief of Elam’s interruption washed over Arslan as well.

The squire opened his eyes.

“My prince,” he said.

“I’m here, Elam,” replied Arslan. “I’m here.”

“Thank goodness,” breathed Elam before passing out again.

_Dammit_ , she thought. _Alone again_.

Awkward silence washed over them. Etoile tried to look everywhere but the prince’s face. Unfortunately for her, there wasn’t much in the tent. Arslan stared at her the whole time _._ Finally, she was forced to return his gaze.

“Look,” said Arslan. “I just wanted to say—“

“Save your breath,” interjected Etoile. “Thank you for saving me, but I can fight for my own honor. I won’t let a Parsian die for me.”

Arslan laughed and Etoile felt her face go red with anger. Why was he laughing at her?

Finally, he said, “I thought you would be glad to get rid of me.”

“I mean, that would be a great victory for my people,” she backtracked. “Maybe I should let you go out there after all. Yes. You will fight that man tomorrow, and when you are killed, I will simply strike a bargain as a Lusitanian.”

“If dying for you is my only option, then so be it.”

“What? How can you say that? I’m the enemy!”

“You’re under my protection. I will give everything to guarantee the safety of my people.”

Etoile let our a frustrated growl.

“Why are you like this?!” she yelled at him. “How can you be so... so noble?!”

“It’s a prince’s job,” replied Arslan. “Who is a prince—a king—without the his subjects. He is nothing. I will always put them first, even if it does cost me my life.”

The seriousness had returned, and Etoile could feel his desire to be a great ruler. She believed that he could be.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he said.

Even now, even in their current predicament, he was staying calm and trying to reassure her.

“You...” she started. The words were there, but she knew that as soon as she said them, there was no going back. “You will make a great king.”

Arslan’s face softened and he smiled her. Etoile blushes as her heart melted.

“Thank you, Etoile,” he said.

“So don’t be so reckless with your life!” Etoile yelled, and Arslan chuckled that boyish chuckle of his. It only further infuriated Etoile, because her heart was beating out of her chest for the boy before her.

Here they were, two children caught up in a bloody feud. _If only things had been different,_ she thought. _But no. If things were different, we never would’ve met._

“Hey, so,” said Arslan, and Etoile’s heart beat faster. “since I might be about to die anyway...”

_No_! she screamed internally.

“I just have to say...”

_He’s a heathen. He’s a heathen._

“Since the first time we met...”

_Heathen, heathen, heathen, heathen, heathen._

“...I’ve always found you beautiful.”

Etoile’s heart skipped a beat, breath catching in the back of her throat. Arslan searched her face, trying to read her reaction.

He then let out a laugh. “I mean, the first time we met, I thought you were a boy, but, hey, you were still beautiful to me.”

Internally, Etoile was screaming. She couldn’t say anything. She wanted, but the words just wouldn’t form on her tongue. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to scold him for being an idiot. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to...

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied, barely above a whisper.

_What?!_ she screamed as Arslan smiled at her.

“If we live through tomorrow,” he finally said. “I, uh, would like to continue this conversation.”

“Right, sure,” she replied, hurriedly, almost fumbling over her words. “Of course. If we survive.”

_Kill me now,_ she whined.

“Good night, Etoile,” he said.

“Good night,” she replied.

_Arslan..._

*****

The next morning, Arslan, Etoile, and Elam were led from the tent to the center of the camp. Elam was sporting a nasty black eye and possibly broken nose.

Etoile and Elam stood between armed bandits as the ropes around his wrists were cut. They then presented him with his sword.

The leader took up position across from Arslan, a battle axe in hand. The prince tried to put on a brave face, clutching the sword in both hands.

“I win and we go free,” he said, voice quivering.

The leader smirked at Arslan before spitting at the prince’s feet. Then, quick as lightning, he charged Arslan. He moved fast for such a large man and Arslan barely got his sword up to deflect the blade.

The leader pressed the attack, Arslan going on the defensive. The moved around the ring, the yells of the bandits mingling with the clash of steel.

Etoile knew he was lost. Elam knew it too. Arslan has faced opponents before, sure, but none like this. The prince couldn’t get in any attacks.

Arslan caught the axe and deflected it, moving quickly to try and get in a strike before the bandit could recover. He was too focused to realize his opponent had wanted just that. The bandit moved as Arslan thrust, then grabbed the handle of his sword. He wrenched it free from Arslan’s hands. Then, he swept the boy’s legs out from under him. Arslan hit the dirt with a huff.

The breath caught in the back of Etoile’s throat.

Laughter met their ears. The leader pointed the blade at Arslan, grinning down at the boy.

Suddenly, there was the twang of a bowstring and a laurel sprouted from between the leader’s shoulder blades. The thunder of hooves filled the camp and above all, one voice could be heard.

The Black Knight has arrived.

As Daryun led his small force against the bandits, Elam and Etoile managed to get free of their guard. Elam cut her ropes, and she returned the favor before running to Arslan’s side.

No one seemed to notice the two, their attention on the attacking Parsians.

“I’m okay,” said Arslan, sitting up as Etoile knelt next to him. “Pride’s a bit damanged is all.” He grinned up at her.

She could take it anymore. Etoile grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him.

The battle was forgotten. All that mattered was the boy in front of her—the boy she loved.

When they finally separated, Arslan had a goofy grin on his face and Etoile was tempted to slap him.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said.

“Yeah, well,” was all he could muster before Narsus was at their side.

Etoile’s face was bright red as Narsus helped Arlsan to his feet. She slowly got to her, not believing what she had just done.

The battle was over, thanks to Daryun. He swung off his horse and stormed over to Arslan.

“What did you think you were doing?!” the knight demanded.

Arslan put his hands up in defense, chuckling nervously. “Just biding time until you’re arrival.”

“Well, you are never to leave my sight again,” barked Daryun.

“Come now,” said Narsus, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “I’m sure Arslan was just about to turn the tide in the bout.”

“Yeah, of course,” replied Arslan.

Daryun grunted in annoyance as he shrugged off Narsus’ hand. “Let’s go.”

Narsus looked at Arslan, then his eyes moved to Etoile.

“You know,” said Narsus, “people do amazing things for those they love.”

Arslan eyes darted to Etoile and his face grew red. Narsus grinned before leading the prince to his horse.

Etoile wavered slightly on the spot.

_Someone please kills me now,_ she whined.


End file.
